Out of the Darkness
by justanothergirlwithablog
Summary: Christian is captivated by the words Ana has put on paper. When they meet, can he capture her heart? These two souls, with their similar pasts, might just be what the other needs to heal. Rated M for later lemons.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: It's my first attempt at fanfiction, so here goes nothing. Reviews are more than welcome. I want to keep the AN up here short so see ya at the end. Story will be from both Ana and Christian POV and the occasional Gail or Taylor._

**Christian POV (CPOV):**

"You haven't had sex in four months." Flynn states. "This is the longest you've gone."

I sigh. "I haven't found anyone I'd want to be my submissive. Elena keeps handing me names of girls, but I feel no interest."

"Are they unattractive?" Flynn asks.

I shrug. "They're brunette, and as far as beauty goes, none of them are ugly. They fit my type perfectly."

"Yet you have no interest."

"None."

"Why?"

"I don't know." It's the truth. "I don't do more. I am not a hearts and flowers person."

"But your current pursuit isn't satisfactory anymore, is it?" Flynn gently pushes. "Don't answer right now. Part of your homework will be to evaluate that answer."

"What's the other part?" I ask, intrigued. Flynn rarely gives me homework.

"I want you to read this memoir. I think it might be illuminating." Flynn answers, passing me a book. The title is _Out of the Darkness_. I've never heard of it.

"Memoir?" I ask.

"The author is an acquaintance of mine. She wrote down some of the moments that have shaped her life. I think you'll be surprised by her narrative." Flynn doesn't offer more, and the rest of our session is taken up with discussing my relationship with Elena and how it's changed again. I used to appreciate her assistance in finding submissives, I now see it as a nuisance. I've scheduled fewer lunches with her, and the current lunches are more about business than my personal life.

The book Flynn gave me for homework captures my attention as Taylor drives us to Escala. The cover is cream and the words are in gold. The design on the cover is what appears to be a girl separating herself from her shadow. It's simple, yet captivating. I open the book. The dedication is simple. "To Ray" is all it reads.

"_I didn't exist until I was fifteen. Not on paper, at least. Before I was fifteen, I was Jane Doe. Or Ana Doe, if we're being more accurate. Nancy, Carla's mentor and best friend, used to be a nurse. She delivered me when Carla was just seventeen herself. Her parents disowned her when she got pregnant, and her boyfriend dumped her. Pregnant and homeless, she found herself walking the streets of New York. Nancy claims she refused to get an abortion because she loved me. I have very few memories of her love, and many memories of her neglect. But I suppose that's the danger of drugs." _

The first paragraph shocks me. She seamlessly weaves reflections from an older self with her depiction of her beginnings. Her storytelling is captivating, and I already know that I won't put this book down until I'm finished.

"Mr. Grey, sir, we're at Escala." Taylor opens my door. I look up, surprised and not ready to stop reading.

I quickly fold the corner of the page I'm reading and walk quickly towards the elevator. When we enter the foyer, I turn to Taylor.

"Ask Gail to prepare a simple sandwich and tell her to bring it to my room around 6:30 tonight." He nods and I rush to my room, kicking off my shoes and taking off my tie and suit jacket before flopping onto my bed to resume reading. I'm conflicted between reading as fast as possible and savoring each word.

"_On my fourth birthday, I got four scars. It was the only birthday gift I ever got, and I never wanted birthday gifts after that day. I woke up to watch Nancy poke a needle into Carla's neck. I cried because I thought Carla was going to die. Nancy explained that grown women need their magic syrup to start the day, and that I should never grow up. If needles were growing up, I was content to stay little forever. It would take many years before I realized that normal people don't need magic syrup to start the day. Coffee, maybe. But not heroin. Carla had just a little bit too much magic syrup, though. The sun had gone down and our little apartment was lit by one lantern when Carla's pimp walked in, smoking a cigarette. The awful scent made me cough, but there was no room to escape the stench. I remember lots of yelling and Carla crying, though I don't remember the exact conversation, which I count as a blessing. Furious at her withdrawal, he yanked me out from underneath our blanket. Nancy was out with a john, though she used to call it "meeting a frog that will hopefully turn into a prince." I could never decide if I was grateful that they tried to give me a farce of a childhood, or angered at their perception of my intelligence. Carla cried that it was my birthday. Her pimp decided that to celebrate, he'd mark me as his property because Carla failed to meet his quota. He stubbed his cigarette on my arm before relighting it only to repeat the procedure three more times. Burning flesh is a strange smell, even stranger than his cigarette. The scent still haunts my nightmares. Before he left, he stated, "When she's sixteen, she's mine." I crawled to Carla, ignoring the pain and craving her comfort. That was the first time she said, "I'm sorry, baby girl." She didn't say it often, but when she did, I always wondered what exactly her apology covered. Was it apologizing for everything since the last apology, or if it was for an unspecified instant."_

I'm bawling when Gail walks in with my sandwich. It's impossible to not get lost in the tale she's recounting, and her older-self musings. I already begin to see the similarities between my childhood and hers. I assume she's fifteen when she gets out, when I was three. I don't think I would have survived twelve more years of Grace hadn't rescued me.

"Are you okay, Mr. Grey?" Gail asks, setting the sandwich and a glass of water down on my bedside table. She notices the book I'm reading. "You're going to need a new tissue box." She comments.

I look up. "Have you read it?"

She smiles. "The ladies in my book club read it together. We had to stop so many times. I think my copy even has small wrinkles from my tears."

I wipe away my tears. "Tell me there's a happy ending."

"I won't spoil it for you, Mr. Grey. Although I will say that it's worth finishing." Gail says, before dismissing herself. "I'll come back in an hour to collect the dishes."

I eat with one hand and flip the pages with the other. There are moments I can't even see through my tears.

I reach the point where I need a break for my emotions. I've never felt this much about any book or movie, but the similarities are striking and I understand why Flynn chose this book for me. Curious about the author, I dogear my page and flip to the back cover flap. There's a short about the author that doesn't offer much information, which makes sense because the memoir is basically the extended version. It's the picture that strikes a chord in my heart. Ana is beautiful, even in the clearly posed black and white author picture.

I fall asleep while reading, and instead of the normal nightmares, I dream of a girl with brown hair and blue eyes.

AN: that's the end of my very first chapter! Ana in person and not book form makes her debut next chapter and they'll meet. It will not be an instant relationship but I think the build will be worth it. Review please!


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: As promised, they meet this chapter! I'll leave a longer AN at the end of this chapter with all my love for you guys. I can't believe how well my first story is being received. Also, disclaimer: I own none of these characters, they all belong to EL James._

**Ana POV (APOV):**

I slip on my sunglasses before I exit Wanda. As my memoir continues to fly off the shelves, people are beginning to recognize me, despite my attempts to keep my life as private as possible. While I don't mind pausing for discussions, photos, or autographs, sometimes I just want my normal routine to carry on. I'm meeting Grace for our normal biweekly lunch that has been our routine since I was eighteen.

"Ana!" Grace rushes to hug me when she sees me. She kisses both of my cheeks, and I return the gesture. Grace is the most prominent maternal figure in my life, and has been since I was sixteen. I've met Carrick and Mia a few times, but I have yet to meet the rest of her family, despite how often I hear about them.

"Hi, Grace. How are you?" I ask.

"I'm swamped with preparations for the Coping Together Gala." She admits as we're seated at a table and peruse the menus.

"What's the theme this year?" Grace and Carrick change the theme each year to keep things fresh.

"A masquerade ball. Will you attend?" She asks hopefully. I've turned down her offer each year because I can't imagine fitting in with all of Seattle's richest socialites.

"I don't know." I answer honestly.

"I'll convince you." She grins.

I laugh. "Okay."

"Please, Ana? I'll even help you find a gown. And Mia would be overjoyed to see you again. She thinks of you as a fantastic friend." Grace begs.

I sigh. "Can I think about it? Fancy events aren't really my thing."

"You have up until the day of the gala to decide." Grace smiles. "It's incredible that you're donating half of your earnings from your memoir to Coping Together."

Our food arrives and we continue to catch up. By the end of lunch, Grace has convinced me to attend, to her delight.

* * *

><p>Three and a half weeks later, I find myself staring at my reflection in the full length mirror in Mia's closet. Her closet is a huge walk-in closet, which is where we've been getting ready for the past two hours. I never thought it could take so long for hair and makeup, but I was wrong.<p>

Last week, after we had lunch, Grace took me to a small boutique to find a gown for me. I fell in love with a silver gown as soon as we walked in. With an embellished bodice and a flowy skirt, it caught my eye, saving me hours of shopping. Luckily, I had silver heels already, so I didn't need to go shoe shopping.

I barely recognize my reflection. My eyes seem to be a more vibrant shade of blue after Mia poked and prodded at my face. I'm also not used to the bold red lipstick that adorns my lips. Thankfully, she left my hair down, though two strands are pinned back and she gently curled my hair. At Mia's insistence, I borrowed a set of sapphire and silver jewelry to match my mask. I'm not used to such heavy jewelry, and the weight feels foreign.

When Mia and I walk downstairs to meet Grace, she hugs us both and squeals about how gorgeous we look. I smile because she's happy, but feelings of anxiety and dread start to swamp me. I know I'm clearly out of my comfort zone, and it's probably obvious that I don't belong, regardless of how good my facade is.

Mia's walking the red carpet with her date, Sean. I just realized that I'm going to have to pose for pictures, something I hate. Suddenly, I feel way unprepared for tonight.

When I finally make it through the blinding flashes and regain enough of my sight to walk to the table, Grace's parents and her sons are already seated. Everyone introduces themselves, but it's Christian who catches my attention. His black mask brings out the soft grey color of his eyes and his hair is the color of a shiny penny, which amuses me. I find my name card at the chair in between Christian and Grace.

"I couldn't put your memoir down once I started reading it." He confesses, rather shyly. "I skipped a day of work to finish it."

"How did you hear about it?" I ask, curious. I always wonder what drives people to pick up my memoir and read it. I have a small inkling of knowledge about Christian's childhood, from consoling Grace in her saddest moments.

"Honestly, it was a homework assignment from my therapist. He said you were an acquaintance of his." Christian replies.

I only know one therapist in Seattle. "John Flynn?" I ask.

"The one and only." Christian replies. "How do you know him?"

"He was my therapist when I was sixteen." I shrug. "After a number of silent sessions, he suggested I write the moments I wasn't ready to talk about yet down and then we'd go from there. That's actually when _Out of the Darkness_ was born. I actually sent him a copy with a thank you card when my memoir was released."

Before he can respond, there's a hiss of a microphone and Carrick is calling for the night to begin and for everyone to be seated. The MC begins tonight's ceremonies, starting with nominating table heads. Mia calls the title and no one contests it. We all place a hundred dollar bill with our names signed into the envelope.

I get lost in the view of the sunset over Seattle and Meydenbauer Bay. It's calm and peaceful, the exact opposite of how I feel at an event like this. The small talk at our table ebbs and flows, with Mia's entertaining conversation. Mr. Trevelyan engages me in conversation, but otherwise, I'm mostly quiet.

I watch Christian talk animatedly with Lance, one of Grace's friends, about a device Christian's company is developing. It's hard to keep up, but I learn that Christian has an unmatched passion and commitment to improving the lives of the less fortunate. Our gazes meet every so often throughout dinner, and I can't help but be in awe of him. I want to know him better, and I want him to know me.

We don't get to continue our conversation, though. There's a steady stream of men in tailored suits and dark masks grappling for the chance to engage Christian in conversation, and there's almost an equally steady stream of women who approach me about my memoir. I can sense the pity in their tones, and I'm slightly ruffled. I didn't write my memoir to receive pity; I wrote it for children who don't have voices but are suffering. Regardless, I politely thank them while gritting my teeth.

"Ana, will you help in the auction?" Mia asks, eagerly.

"Of course!" I reply. Coping Together means a lot to me, so I'd do anything to help.

Grace's maid, Gretchen, stares at Christian each time she comes to the table. He doesn't seem to pay any attention, which makes me wonder if he's oblivious or indifferent. Gretchen stops at our table with the MC for the raffle drawing. Sean wins the silk-wrapped basket.

When the card with the list of auction prizes goes around, I gasp at one of the listings. "I can't believe someone's selling a first edition of Pride and Prejudice." I murmur. The other prize that catches my eye is Christian's property in Aspen. I find it difficult to imagine him as an avid skier.

"Is it your favorite book?" Christian asks.

"It was one of the first books I read." I admit. "I think I like it more because of it's sentimental value to me than it's literary merit, though I do believe it is a good book." We're whispering because the auction is already underway, and each item is selling for thousands of dollars.

"You're more than welcome to borrow my copy anytime. I also happen to have a first edition." Christian offers.

I look at him, stunned. "Thank you. I might just take you up on that."

"You're welcome." A small smile appears on his face, and he looks breathtakingly handsome when he smiles.

The room bursts into applause when a week at Grace and Carrick's property in Aspen goes for one hundred and ten thousand dollars. After the applause subsides, Mia calls my name, breaking the moment. I didn't realize that Christian and I had been gazing at each other.

"It's time." Mia announces.

"For what?" I'm confused.

"The First Dance Auction, silly! Come on!" She holds her hand out and pulls me up from my seat. I'm pulled towards a stage where ten more masked young women are standing.

"Gentlemen, the highlight of the evening!" The MC announces, his voice covering the conversations that are happening at each table. "The moment you've all been waiting for! These twelve lovely young ladies have agreed to auction their first dance to the highest bidder!"

I blush from head to toe. I'm honestly not sure how I'm going to survive this. It's difficult to let strangers touch me. In my musings and desperate attempt to calm myself before anyone notices my discomfort, I zone out and when I return to reality, the first girl is already being bid on. I notice Christian in the pool of twenty men ready to bid on us, and I wonder who he has his eye on. A flash of hope enters my heart that the girl he wants is me.

The MC is talking complete garbage, and I can feel myself cringe. I feel like I'm a piece of meat, and I have to fight off the old feelings from my younger years. I remind myself to take deep breaths, and dig my nail into my palm to keep myself focused. Jada, the first girl, sells her dance for five thousand dollars.

"Isn't this fun?" Mia asks, leaning over. I force a smile and a small nod, even though I can feel myself regretting agreeing to this. I chant, "It's for a good cause" in my head.

"And now, let me introduce the beautiful Ana." The MC calls. I feel frozen in my place on the stage. With a not-so-gentle push from Mia, I gingerly walk to the center of the stage.

"Beautiful Ana plays six instruments, is keen on yoga, and is fluent in Mandarin.." The MC doesn't get to finish before Christian's voice interrupts, to my surprise and relief. Out of all these bidders, the only person I might not have a panic attack with is Christian.

"Ten thousand dollars." Christian's voice is clear, but I still doubt what I just heard. The gasp of disbelief behind me tells me that I didn't hear wrong.

"Fifteen." Another voice enters the fray. Everyone turns at the same time to see a tall, impeccably dressed man. His mask covers most of his features, so I'm not sure if I recognize him or not. I'm watching Christian, and it seems as if he's amused by the competition. Does he know the other guy?

I want this bidding to be over. "Twenty." Christian counters quietly, his gaze back on me.

"Twenty-five." The stranger says. I feel sick, as if I'm going to faint from embarrassment in about five seconds. I swear my heart is beating at an insane rate.

"One hundred thousand dollars." Christian calls, his voice clear and loud. The room bursts into gasps and amusement. I spare a glance to the stranger who holds one hand up in defeat, while laughing. My gaze returns to Christian, who's smirking at the stranger.

I'm sold at last, and Christian steps forward to take my hand and help me from the stage. "I can't believe you paid that much for a dance." I'm amused. "Thank you, though."

"I'm sure it'll be worth every cent." He smiles, and his entire face lights up. My arm is linked through the crook of his as he leads me out to the lawn and towards the rear of the house.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"There's about thirty minutes before the First Dance Auction ends. You looked like you needed a break from the festivities." He shrugs.

"Was it that obvious?" I cringe.

"No. I guess I just feel like I know you somewhat after reading your memoir." Christian muses. We're inside of one of the bedrooms now. "This was my room." Christian says quietly, as the door closes.

I look around, a corkboard above the desk catching my attention. I admire the photographs, although I don't see Christian smiling in any of them. "You don't smile much, do you?" I observe.

"I guess not." He's sitting in the desk chair.

"That's a shame. You have a nice smile." I blurt before I can stop myself. I blush beet red.

He chuckles. "Thank you."

There's concert ticket stubs, and in the corner there's a passport-size photo of a young woman in black and white. "Who is this?" I ask, curious.

He sighs. "My Carla." Those two words speak volumes, and I don't want to press too much.

I turn and sit on the desk, so I'm facing him. "Do you ever miss her?"

"I don't know." He answers softly. "Most often, I resent her."

"Part of you will always love her." I say just as softly. "Love is stronger than hate."

"How did you forgive her?" Christian asks.

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." I explain. "I chose to remember her for her few moments that were bright and shiny, and mourn the moments where she succumbed to her demons. She tried to sober up multiple times, but the system was against her and quite honestly, I don't think she wanted to deal with the sober memories of her high actions. I also realized that holding onto that anger would keep hurting me. I didn't want to be angry. I wanted to be happy. The anger was a good driving force, but happiness is even better."

"I don't know how to let go of my anger." Christian says quietly, his voice breaking.

"Oh, Christian." I want to comfort him somehow. His hands are clenched in fists on the desk. Impulsively, I grab one and hold his hand between mine. We sit in silence, though it's a comfortable one.

When we're both composed emotionally enough, we return downstairs, just as the guests are beginning to assemble on the dance floor. Christian and I smile at each other as we stand on the black and white checkered floor as we wait for the music to begin.

"Just in time." He comments. I'm glad his mood has improved. Lost in his grey eyes, I barely notice when "I've Got You Under My Skin" starts to play. Dancing with Christian is fun and just what we needed after the heavy discussion in his room. I'm glad he shared that part of his life with me, and I hope he'll elaborate someday.

"May I cut in?" It's the stranger from the auction who approaches us when the song ends.

Christian seems hesitant to let me go, but his expression is one of amusement. "My pleasure. Ana, this is John Flynn. John, this is Ana."

So that's why he looked familiar. "My favorite expensive charlatan." I deadpan, causing John and Christian to break into laughter. Christian makes his way to one side of the dance floor.

"My favorite silence companion." Flynn replies as we start to dance, though it's not as graceful as with Christian. I fight the urge to ask him about Christian. I know Flynn won't tell me anything, and I respect Christian's privacy. I want him to open up to me on his own terms.

"I never expected your advice to lead to my status as a published author." I admit.

He smiles. "I never saw it coming either. Thank you for sending me a copy."

"Is it the same copy you gave to Christian?" I ask, curious.

"No. I bought him a separate copy. You two seem to be getting along well." Flynn observes.

"Doctor Flynn, your shrink side is coming out."

He laughs. "Does it ever go away?"

"I guess not." I reply.

When the music finishes, Christian returns to my side. I don't even want to guess at how big my smile is when I see him. "May I have this dance?" Christian asks.

I giggle. "Of course." He's such a gentleman. He spins me until I'm a laughing, dizzy mess begging for mercy. It's worth it though because he's smiling and laughing. We dance until it's time for the fireworks.

"This is the first time I've stayed this long." Christian admits as we take our masks off, which the MC has permitted for better viewing of the fireworks. Without his mask, I get to admire all of Christian's features. I alternate between watching the spectacular show and watching Christian's reactions. The final fireworks are sparks forming the message Thank You from Coping Together.

"That was incredible." I say. Christian nods in agreement. The MC announces that the night has raised nearly two million dollars.

Feeling tired and the effects of wearing heels all night, I'm ready to go home. "I think I'm going to go say goodbye to Grace and give Mia her jewelry back before I head out. It's a long drive home and I promised Grace I would come to brunch tomorrow." I tell Christian.

"If you're coming, I can drop you off at your place and pick you up tomorrow so you don't have to drive tonight." Christian offers.

"Only if you're okay with stopping at a pizza place."

He laughs. "I'm okay with that. Do you have a preference?"

"Whatever's open and on the way, honestly." I reply.

I'd never admit it, but I'm glad the night hasn't come to an end yet. I don't know if I'm ready to let go of Christian yet.

_AN: and that's a wrap for the second chapter. Thank you so much for the awesome reception of the story so far, and I hope I didn't disappoint with their first encounter. The Pinterest for this story can be found on my Author Profile. This is actually my first time using pinterest so I hope I'm not doing a terrible job. They're still getting to know each other, but it's definitely not platonic from either part, so it'll grow and blossom soon. I believe in a nice build but I don't want to bore anyone. Pizza night and Grey family brunch is next! I'll try to update soon. _


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: disclaimer: I don't o_w_n any characters; they belong to EL James. Also just to clarify for one of my guest reviewers: Ana is an author on the rise, not well known though she's headed there. Keep in mind that the people approaching her at the gala were friends of Grace. Her memoir is her first published novel, and she is donating half of her proceeds to charity. Furthermore, after her publisher, editor, agent, etc take their share, she isn't super loaded. In addition, she grew up destitute. She doesn't need the extravagant things in life nor is she used to it, a characteristic that's going to be juxtaposed against Christian's. She did buy her gown; Grace just helped her choose it. Without further ado, here's the next chapter and I'll talk to y'all at the end (sorry for the long note at the start). _

**APOV:**

"It smells so good. I'm so excited." I inhale the scent from the warm pizza box. We're in Christian's SUV, while Taylor drives. I can't believe I didn't notice Taylor throughout the night, but I guess part of his job is to be discreet. I kicked off my heels, much to Christian's amusement.

"How do we decide who's hosting pizza and movies?" Christian asks.

"Odds are that we go to mine. Number between one and ten." I state.

"What?" Christian looks absolutely baffled.

"Have you not played that game before? Basically, someone says odds are "fill in the blank." Then they give a number range. If the other person says the number the first person was thinking of, the statement happens. Otherwise, the opposite happens if the number the person guesses is different." I try to explain.

"Okay, I think I get it. Five." He says.

"Nope, I was thinking three." I reply. "Guess you're hosting."

He insists on carrying me because I don't want to put my heels back on and he won't let me walk barefoot. Taylor's expressionless mask cracks into one of amusement as he helps carry the pizza box while I hold my clutch and heels, tucking my face into Christian's shoulder to hide my embarrassed giggling.

He leads me through the foyer to his entertainment room and tells me to put whatever I want on. Taylor sets the pizza down with napkins and plates. I flip through the channels until I land on The X-Files.

Christian comes back into the room, having changed into a white v-neck t-shirt and pajama pants. A few of his chest hairs poke out of the v, and I marvel at how they match the shiny penny color of his hair.

"Here." He hands me a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. "I figured you'd want to get out of your dress. I can leave so you can change here."

I beam. "Thank you!" I quickly change into the clothes he's lent me. I have to roll the waistband of the sweatpants so that they don't fall down, and the legs are still too long. The t-shirt hangs on me, almost to the length of a short dress. When I'm done, I open the door so Christian can come back in.

I sit cross-legged on the couch while Christian slouches into the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him as we eat our pizza. "I used to watch this show a lot when I was younger." Christian comments.

"It was Ray's favorite, so it was always on."

"Do you still see him often?" Christian asks.

"He passed away four months ago in a freak car accident." I tuck my knees in and wrap my arms around them, resting my head on the top of my kneecaps.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ana." Christian murmurs.

"He was the closest thing I had to family." A tear escapes my eye. Christian starts to rub circles on my back, which comforts me. "I feel so alone sometimes." I confess.

"I do too." Christian admits. "My family loves me, yet I can't help but to keep them at a distance."

I sniffle. "Because your phobia of being touched?" I ask. "Grace mentioned it once."

"Yeah. Out of curiosity, how did you and my mother meet?" Christian inquires.

"We had just moved here and I passed out, so Ray took me to the hospital. Grace was the doctor on call. She nearly called Child Protective Services on Ray because she thought he was responsible for my malnourished state. After I set the record straight, she apologized to both of us. I think she's always felt responsible for me, and she started a lunch every other week tradition. We're basically each other's confidantes." I explain. "We're also both involved with Coping Together, so I guess there's that."

"What role do you hold?"

"I'm an advocate and donor, mostly. I used to volunteer on weekends when I was in high school. I decided to donate half of my share of whatever my memoir earns to Coping Together. What's the story behind your fear of being touched? You don't have to answer if you're not comfortable but I feel like we've been talking about me for so long. I want to get to know you." I notice that Christian has a knack for diverting the conversation away from him.

"The crack whore, my birth mother, was addicted to cocaine. She was also a prostitute. Her pimp used to take out his aggression on me when she wasn't lucid enough to feel the pain, or if he couldn't punish her. He used my chest and back as his ashtray, and beat me. That's why I can't handle people touching me." Christian sighs. "When I was little, I would watch Carrick tickle Elliot and Mia. It looked like a lot of fun, but I wouldn't have been able to enjoy it."

"When I was drunk out of my mind, I thought my scars were a caterpillar. I guess it made sense with my blurred vision since they're in a row. I kept slapping my arm, because I wanted to get it off. The next day, I woke up with a bruised arm and a massive headache." Our shoulders brush for a moment as we readjust how we're sitting to face each other, the TV all but ignored.

"I've had my fair share of hangovers and bruises." Christian says.

"I can't picture that. You seem too disciplined to get wasted." I try to imagine Christian drunk out of his mind.

He chuckles. "You didn't see me in my early teens. I spent all of my allowance on liquor, and stole drinks from my parent's liquor cabinet. I also fought a lot. It got me expelled twice."

"What made you stop?" I ask. "You clearly changed."

"I matured and learned how to channel my anger." Christian's answer is oddly vague, but I don't press it. "I thought it worked, but lately I've had my doubts. Instead of finding a genuine solution, I think I just found a band-aid for the wound, instead of actually fixing it, if that makes any sense." He continues.

"I get it. It hurts less that way until you realize you're still in a lot of pain."

"It's the only way I know." Christian's expression is unbearably sad.

"Turn that frown upside down. We'll find you a new way." I tell him, taking his hand in mine, like I did earlier.

"It's so strange. I feel like I know so much about you, but I still want to know more. And I want you to get to know me, but I'm scared that you won't want to get to know me when you start to learn certain things." Christian's grey eyes meet my blue ones, and I can sense the conflict in them.

I take one of my hands off his, and hold my pinky out. "Hold your pinky out." I demand.

He laughs as he reluctantly follows my lead, with his other hand. I link our pinkys and then tell him, "I pinky promise I won't stop trying to get to know you, regardless of what you tell me and what I learn about you. Now you have to kiss your thumb with our hands like this to seal the pact." I demonstrate, and he follows.

"Eager to find out all of my secrets, aren't you?" He teases.

"Maybe." I like playful Christian. If I'm being honest with myself, I think I like Christian, regardless of his mood.

I end up spending what's left of the night in of his guest bedrooms. It's late, and I don't want to trouble Taylor with driving me home, and Christian generously offered. I silently wake up in the middle of a nightmare, but I fall back asleep to the sad though gentle notes of a piano. I assume it's Christian playing, and I wonder if he also suffers from nightmares.

* * *

><p><strong>CPOV:<strong>

I opened up to Ana more than I have to anyone last night. It's just so easy to talk to her, and it scares and thrills me at the same time. I'm terrified that I won't be worthy of her in any role, and thrilled that she so easily understands me. It doesn't hurt that she's easily the most beautiful woman I've ever met. I loved seeing her in my clothes, even though she deserves better fabric.

When she finally stumbles into the kitchen with an adorable yawn, I offer her a cup of tea. I've been sipping coffee and reading the news.

"Can we stop at my place? I need to change before we go to brunch." Ana reaches for the mug. There's the word again. _We. _I'd be lying if I said hearing that word come from her lips didn't excite me.

"Of course. We should probably head out soon if we're going to be on time."

"Okay." She sits on the bar stool next to mine. "Were you playing the piano last night?"

"Yes."

"You're incredible at it."

"Grace made sure her children were well-rounded. We all had to learn a second language, take up a sport, and learn how to play an instrument. I picked the piano." I explain.

"What language?" She asks.

"French."

"Je peux parler un peu Francais." She says, and her accent is flawless.

"How did you learn French?" I ask, curious.

She shrugs. "Deja, one of the women that worked with Carla, was French. She didn't want her native tongue to go to waste, so she decided to teach me French, when she was sober enough. She was quite insightful, when she was sober, though that wasn't often and most definitely not by choice. I think Flynn might have her to thank for my doubts for therapy."

"I have my own doubts. I've been through every type of therapy, for years on end, and I don't feel fixed at all." I admit.

"That's the thing I don't understand. How is talking supposed to change the tragedy you went through? Because unless they've been through it, they can't understand. What should be fixed is the structure of society that allowed that tragedy to happen." Ana sighs. "It just frustrates me."

"I never thought of it that way, but it makes a lot of sense."

"Mr. Grey, it's time to go." Taylor approaches the kitchen, holding Ana's dress in a dry cleaning garment bag. "Miss. Steele, your dress was dry cleaned this morning."

"Oh, thank you so much. Please, call me Ana." Ana says.

"No can do, m'am. It wouldn't be professional of me." Taylor replies.

Ana grabs her clutch and heels from the foyer on our way. I insist on carrying her since she still isn't wearing shoes. She rolls her eyes, and my palm itches to spank her for that gesture, but the rational part of me doesn't comment on it. I've noticed that while carrying her puts her in close proximity to my chest, it doesn't bother me. Maybe I should discuss that with Flynn.

Her apartment isn't that far away, and I'm pleased to discover that it's in a safe part of the city. It's not a large apartment, but it's cozy and warm. I'm in the middle of looking through her bookshelf when she comes back out. She's still wearing my t-shirt, to my surprise. She's tied a knot in it to reduce the length and bagginess, and it's actually quite an attractive look. She's changed into a bright red skirt and sandals.

"I can give you your sweatpants now or after I wash them." She gives me the choice.

"You can keep them." I tell her. I don't tell her it's because I like seeing her in my clothes and that I want to see her in my clothes more often.

She grins. "Really?"

I nod. "Really."

* * *

><p>I don't know which member of my family is the most surprised when I walk in with Ana by my side. I don't know what they're thinking, but I like the idea of my family thinking that Ana and I are a couple. I like the idea of Ana and I as a couple, which shocks me because I didn't think I was capable of wanting a relationship, but I am. I want to be more for Ana. I know that most of my family assumed that I was celibate, gay, or both. I would rather them assume that than discover the truth. Oh god. Elena. I hope she didn't attend the gala last night. She's been trying to meet more frequently. I had the codes changed to Escala changed, just in case.<p>

"Are you okay?" Ana whispers, bringing me back to reality.

"Just lost in my thoughts." I whisper back, giving her a small smile.

We join the conversation at the table, though I keep sneaking glances at her. When our eyes meet a few times, she blushes and her skin turns a beautiful shade of pink. I can't help but wonder how far her blush extends, and I have to distract myself before I get a boner during brunch.

Grace makes me help clear the table, because I was the last child to arrive. By the way she's practically bouncing, I know she also wants to talk about Ana.

"Oh, Christian. You're smitten, aren't you?" Grace asks as we set the plates in the sink.

I run a hand through my hair. "Is it obvious?" I don't want to scare Ana off, not to mention it would take me more time than I have left in this life to be a man worthy of her.

"Don't worry, dear. It's not one-sided, and I don't think Ana knows that you like her. You two would be perfect for each other." Grace consoles me. "Don't hurt her."

"What?" The disbelief in my voice is unmistakable.

"Listen to me, Christian Trevelyan Grey. That girl has been through unspeakable things, and I love her greatly, just as I love you. If your intentions towards her aren't respectable, you will have me to answer to." Grace's tone leaves no room for argument, and I'm slightly amused.

"I don't deserve her." I blurt out, frustrated.

"Don't you start. No one could deserve her more than you." Grace's tone is softer now. "You don't see yourself clearly. You never have, Christian. But you deserve someone who can make you happy and reach you in a way no one else has been able to before. She could be that person. You have to give love a chance."

"I'm scared." I admit. "We're just friends, anyway."

"Not for long. A mother knows these things." Grace pats my arm gently, before heading back to the patio, where brunch was served.

I take a few deep breaths to collect myself before I head back out. I take my seat next to Ana, and turn my head towards her ear. "My mother just gave me an interesting warning in regards to my intentions for you." I whisper.

Ana blushes. "I thought only over protective dads did that." She mutters.

"Apparently not."

"Now I'm curious. What are your intentions?" She asks, while her blush deepens.

Before I can answer, my siblings have to interrupt. "No secrets at this table! Stop whispering, you two." Mia demands.

Elliot whoops. "They're ready to head out for the horizontal tango. And here I was, thinking you were gay all this time, Christian."

"Fuck off, Lelliot." I retort. Ana looks mortified, so I take her hand and hold it in between mine under the table. I hope it comforts her as much as it comforts me.

"Children, play nice." Grace chastises us.

I don't know how I feel about not having been able to answer Ana's question. I'm not sure if I know the answer yet, but I want it all with her. Yet I doubt she'd be receptive to my playroom. I really should see Flynn soon.

I walk Ana to her car, and I'm appalled by the scrap of metal that she calls a car. "Does it even work?" I ask. She's driving a really old VW Beetle.

"Don't insult Wanda." Ana sighs. "I know I should buy a new car, but I can't bear to part with her. She was a gift from Ray."

"It's not safe to drive her, though." I protest. I can feel my heart rate speeding up from fear of imagining her driving in this death contraption.

"And?" Ana asks, clearly amused by my reaction.

"I don't know. I just don't want you to drive it." I sigh.

"You're pouting. It's kind of cute, in a childish way." She observes, and I know she's teasing, but it doesn't lessen my worry.

"It doesn't even look like it has good gas mileage. The wasting of finite resources is everyone's responsibility." I try a different tactic.

Ana giggles. "Oh, Christian. You can't stop me from driving Wanda. And you can stop worrying. I don't even drive that often. I prefer walking."

She will be the death of me. "Walking? Alone? Ana, that's so dangerous." I'm horrified.

"Christian, I spent fifteen years in Hunts Point and I'm still alive. I've picked up enough street smarts to survive a two block walk to the grocery store." Ana looks exasperated. "What would make you stop worrying? For your sanity and mine, I'm willing to negotiate, though I can't believe we're having this conversation."

I think carefully. "Until you get a new car that's safe, I'd like it if you'd let me let one of my people drive you around. Also, I'd like it if you'd be willing to have security when you walk around."

"No deal, Christian. I'll consent to you giving me a ride as long as it's on the way, and now that I know where you live, don't think you can fool me. You can take me car shopping so I don't end up picking a car that doesn't meet your standards because I refuse to ever have this ridiculous conversation again, but I obviously get final say and I'm paying, before you start with that. Definitely not about the guy following me everywhere. It would drive me insane. It's difficult enough when that shy fan is following me up and down the aisles of the grocery store because she can't decide if it's me or not. Or if she wants to say but doesn't know if I'd be receptive." Ana replies.

Negotiating is new to me. I realize how limited my interactions with women have been. Granted, the type of women I'm used to crave expensive things and never turned away the things I provided for them. "Fine." I concede.

"Great. Now that we have that settled, I'm going to drive Wanda home and you are not going to complain."

"Text me when you get home?" I ask, hopefully.

She laughs. "Okay."

I realize I don't actually have her number. At least she has a Blackberry. If her phone was as antique as her car, I don't know if I would have survived another argument with her.

"Drive safe, okay?" I'm holding one of her hands, not ready to let go.

"I will. Make sure Taylor drives safe. He's carrying precious cargo." Ana replies. I beam inwardly. She thinks I'm precious.

"And Ana? My intentions are to date you." I blurt. Shit, that wasn't remotely smooth.

Her responding smile is beautiful. "Okay." She stands on her tip toes and kisses my cheek. I wished she would aimed a little more to the left for a kiss on the lips.

"Oh, fuck it." I say before I can stop myself. I let go of her hand, bringing both of my hands to gently cup her face, tilting her chin up. Our lips meet, and I'm a goner. Her mouth opens, and our tongues meet.

When we break apart, I don't know if I should apologize. "Wow." Ana says, echoing my thoughts. "That was a great first kiss."

"That was your first kiss?" I ask.

"Depends. Technically no. By choice, yes." Ana's looking down at the ground, and once again, I'm reminded of how strong she was to make it through all the shit that she did.

"I'm honored." And I am. It means a lot to me that I'm the first man she wants to share these experiences with, though it's terrifying. I don't know how to be the more she deserves.

She brings me back to reality with another kiss. "You looked like you were getting lost in your thoughts again."

"A little bit." I laugh.

"Okay, I'm actually going now." Ana says, and her sad tone matches my mood.

"Don't forget to text me." I remind her.

"Don't forget to answer." She teases.

I watch her get into that scary car and drive away. She's been gone thirty seconds and I already want to see her again. Instead, I have to get into my own car. I start to plan a date in my head. I need to make her first date spectacular.

* * *

><p><em>AN: and Chapter 3 comes to close! I started to add things to the pinterest (check my profile for the link and thank you to my followers!) while I was writing this, and then realized that it wouldn't make any sense to you guys, so I deleted them and will be adding them back when the chapter posts (or before, I'm never sure about the timing where publishing is concerned). Thank you to all the lovely darlings reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing! It means so much to me and encourages me to carry on writing this. I'll be busy as uni is starting up again, so please be patient with me. I'm aiming for at least one chapter a week, since it does take me some time to write these chapters. The next chapter will show their first date. Pretty please leave me a review! If it's a question, I'll probably answer you either in a message or in an AN in the next chapter. Also if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, I apologize. I don't have anyone proofreading this, so errors will probably slip my attention. Until next time! xoxo, J. <em>


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: (insert disclaimer about me not owning the characters and whatnot). Thank you to all the darlings who reviewed, favorited, and followed, and read. _

**APOV:**

The rest of my Sunday is spent multitasking between texting Christian and doing chores. The physical distance between Christian and I is something I need, to regroup my thoughts. I don't want to move too quickly, because I know that going into a relationship with him is a path that needs to be treaded lightly. After all, I don't know what he's hiding, though at this point, I'd wager that unless he's a secret serial killer, I wouldn't be able to leave him. Not after those earth-shattering kisses, and not after how adorable he was when he was trying to plan our first date. I told him he didn't need to go all out, but he insisted.

I don't get to see him on Monday, and I miss him quite terribly. We only get to chat on the phone for a few minutes, as he's been in and out of meetings all day, and then he has his weekly meeting with Flynn. He tells me that he's taking me on our first date tomorrow, and to dress for warm weather, but to bring a sweater. Our date will be the first time I've seen him in person since brunch on Sunday.

Lately, I feel like I've been under the watchful eye of someone. I wonder if Christian would go behind my back and assign a security detail, but I don't want to hurt him with wrongful accusations and decide that the best time to bring it up is in person. At least then I can apologize with kisses. Christian has ignited a part of me that I didn't know existed, and I long for his lips to touch mine.

On Tuesday, I do my best to keep myself busy before my date with Christian, who's picking me up at four. I go for a five mile run in the morning before a meeting with my agent at SIP. Roach is actually the chief editor of SIP, and he's the one who read my manuscript for my memoir and chose to take a chance with me. He's pleased by the reception to my novel, including the critical praise it's been receiving. From one of his friends, he's heard a rumor that Oprah might even be mentioning it on her talk show, which would boost sales. "Ana, mark my words. You have written a bestseller." Roach predicts.

It isn't until I go grocery shopping that everything goes south. It starts out innocently, with my normal dilemma between honey and peach yogurt.

"Ana, right?" I hear a voice behind me, and turn around. In front of me is a blonde woman, who I surmise is Grace's age. Her hair is clearly bleached, as her roots are starting to show. By her tone, I'm apprehensive.

"Yes." I finally say.

"You were at the Coping Together Gala, weren't you?" She asks.

I don't remember her as one of the women who approached me, but they were wearing masks so I suppose it's possible. "Yes."

"Hmm." She stares at me. "You have no idea, do you? What Christian really needs. You should watch out. When he comes to his senses, you might find yourself with a broken heart." Her sinister sneer makes me wonder what relationship she has with Christian.

"Like you?" Shit, my inner bitch has just made her appearance. "Clearly, you're still licking the wounds of rejection."

"You know nothing." She scoffs. "I made Christian, and he trusts me more than anyone. If I tell him to drop you, you'll be kicked to the curb. I don't even know how you landed him, anyway, little mousey thing that you are."

The inner bitch calls her bluff. "Call him right now, then. Tell him."

Blondezilla, the nickname I've given her, pales. "I don't have to prove myself to you." She retorts, though the venom in her voice is shakier than before.

"Neither do I. I'd say that it was nice to meet you, but I'd be lying. Now, leave me alone or I will call the police and get a restraining order on grounds of harassment. I didn't get your name, by the way." My voice doesn't tremble, and she darts away. I add Blondezilla to my mental list of things I need to discuss with Christian tonight. I feel bad, because I know how much this date means to him and I'm sure the last thing he wants to do is discuss these issues, but I need full disclosure if any relationship is going to work.

"Lincoln. Elena Lincoln." Who the fuck does this bitch she think she is? She can't pull off the James Bond introduction any more than she can pull off the awful roots-induced ombre.

I don't realize I'm shaking until I get home. I don't know if I can actually handle this date with Christian anymore. My worst fear is that Blondezilla does have that much power over Christian, and that I'm not worth his time or attention.

I grab a glass and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Along with Ben and Jerry, Jack might be my best friend. After all, liquid courage might just be what I need to get through this date.

There's a knock on the door and I stumble my way, falling against the door as I open it. Shit, it's Christian.

"Ana, what the fuck happened?" Christian asks. Fuck, it must be obvious that I'm wasted.

"Ask Blondezilla." Wow, I can hear my own voice slurring. "I'm sorry I got so drunk. I know how much this date means to you, but I had a really shitty day. It's not an acceptable excuse at all." Now I'm crying. God, drunk me is an absolute mess.

Christian pulls me into his arms. "Ana, who's Blondezilla?"

"Your best friend." I mumble into his chest. "Can we sit down? My legs are numb."

He drags me to the couch and helps me lie down. "Elena?"

"Yeah! That's her name." I groan. "I think I drank too much."

"I know you drank too much." Christian sounds mad.

"Are you mad at me?" I ask, hugging the blanket he's covered me with.

"I don't know." He replies. "I don't understand why you felt the need to drink so much or what role Elena had."

"She accosted me when I was grocery shopping. Oh no! I don't know if I bought yogurt. I was deciding between honey and peach. I don't know what I picked."

Christian stops me when I try to get up to check my fridge. "Ana, I'll look for you. Just stay here, okay?" He darts to the kitchen and comes back. "You bought honey." He's also holding a glass of water. "Drink this."

I don't argue with him because his face looks mad right now. I gulp the water down. "Thank you."

"What did Elena say to you?" He asks.

"She said you'd break my heart." I mumble. "Because she told you to." I finally look up at him.

"And you weren't going to ask me about it?" Christian sounds hurt.

"I was. I just needed some liquid courage." I grab his hand. "I'm so sorry. She just scared me."

"She only went after you because of me. It's my fault. I'm the one who should be saying sorry. Ana, when you sober up, I promise I'll tell you why." He replies. "But for now, you should probably just sleep off the alcohol."

"No! I ruined our date." I'm crying. "Don't leave."

"You want me to stay?" He asks, surprised.

"Always." I nod. "Will you take a nap with me? I haven't slept well recently. Too many nightmares."

He sighs. "Anything for you." He mutters as he carries me to my bed, and tucks me in before he takes off his sweater and shoes and lies next to me on top of the comforter.

"Get in the bed, Christian." I demand.

He laughs. "You're even bossier when you're drunk." But he gets underneath the covers and spoons me anyway. He kisses my hair.

"You missed." I pout, though I doubt he notices. "My lips aren't facing that way."

He's laughing as he turns me. He kisses me gently, and I'm swooning inside. "Better?" He asks, amused.

"Yes." I sigh. "Now sleep." I spin back around.

"That should be my line to you." He grumbles.

* * *

><p><strong>CPOV:<strong>

I should be mad at how irresponsible Ana's behavior was, but I can't be when it was my fault in the first place. She's sleeping peacefully in my arms, and it occurs to me that for the first time in my life, I'm holding someone close to me without freaking out. I suppose carrying her might have counted, but this feels more intimate and real.

Flynn had a field day yesterday when we discussed how Ana has changed me so much already in so little time. I told Flynn about what Ana said about anger, and he asked me if I understood what he meant about how it wasn't right that I've been channeling my anger inward for so long. He asked me if I told her about my playroom, and proceeded to lecture me about how if I want a healthy relationship with Ana, I need to make sure that the building blocks are there. Honesty is something she deserves, after all the lies she's faced in her life. He also asked me to consider if I could handle a relationship where I'm not fully in control, or if I could handle a relationship that doesn't have kink.

Holding her now, I know there's nowhere else I'd rather be. When she wanted me closer to her, I felt a rush of pure joy. I should know by now that she never does what I expect her to. She felt so bad about missing our date, but I can easily reschedule the date as long as she still wants to be around me after I tell her. That's another thing Flynn told me to work on. "Christian, you can't keep doubting yourself if you're going to be in a secure relationship with Ana. She'll have her own insecurities, and you'll have yours. You need to be able to work past them in order to communicate beneficially."

I don't understand why Elena felt the need to approach Ana. Or what would drive her to say such nasty things to Ana. After all, if she was truly a friend, she should have approached me. Then again, this could be my fault again for continuously ignoring her. Ugh, I don't want to think about this right now.

I blink my eyes open, slowly. The side of the bed where Ana was sleeping is empty, though the bed is still warm. She must have gotten out of bed recently. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, I see that it's nearly ten at night. Did we really sleep that long? I head into the hallway, and the lights are on in the kitchen.

Ana is on the phone, presumably ordering food, judging by the menu she's holding. "You looked so content sleeping that I didn't want to wake you." She says when she hangs up. I don't tell her that the reason I slept well is because of her. Normally, I can't sleep for more than an hour before a nightmare hits.

"What did you order?" I ask, curious.

"Chinese takeout. I didn't know what you liked, so I ordered a bunch of things to share." She replies. "I didn't feel like cooking this late at night."

We end up on the couch, with her head on my lap. I try not to think inappropriate thoughts, but her proximity to my groin doesn't escape my mind. "Does your head hurt?" I ask. The benefit of sitting like this

"No. I rarely get hangovers." Ana replies. "I don't get drunk often, either. So, now that I'm sober, are you going to tell me who Elena is?"

I sigh. "If I tell you, will you promise not to interrupt until I'm finished?"

She makes a motion of zipping her lips and then flicks her finger.

"What's the second motion?" I'm confused.

"Throwing away the key." She replies.

"You're lovely." I tell her as I brush away a strand of hair that's covering her face. "I told you about my secret drinking habit. So I was looking to earn some extra money, and I found myself clearing rubble and trash from the extension the Lincolns had added." I close my eyes and swallow, not wanting to see her reaction to what I'm going to say. It's only when Ana takes my hand between hers that I find the strength to continue on. "I was working alone, and the work was backbreaking. It was such a hot summer day, too. Out of nowhere, Elena was there with a pitcher of lemonade and a glass. She struck up small talk, and I must have made some smart-ass remark. She slapped me," My free hand comes up to my cheek from the memory, "And then she kissed me. It was the first time I'd been hit or kissed like that." I pause and look down at her. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

Ana nods, kissing my hand. I search her eyes, trying to determine her reaction so far. Instead, I get lost in the mystery her blue eyes always seem to hold. I sigh and stare at the wall across the room as I continue. "Naturally, I was confused, angry, and horny all at once. She was hot and older and she came onto me. I didn't know what to think or how to react. She went back in the house and it was like it never happened. I went back to working on clearing the rubble. She asked me when I left for the evening to come back the next day, and I eagerly agreed." My voice trails off, and I whisper the next part. "I couldn't wait to see her again."

"She didn't touch me when she kissed me." I look down at Ana. "You have to understand that my life was hell on earth. My hormones were all over the place, I was tall for my age at fifteen, and I practically had an eternal hard-on. I was angry all the time. At myself, my parents. I had no friends, and my therapist at the time was an asshole. My parents thought that the best thing for me was to be held on a tight leash because they just couldn't understand. I couldn't bear anyone touching me. As you know, I got in some god-awful fights. But when she kissed me, she only grabbed my face."

My voice is barely audible as I continue. "And the next day, when I went back, I didn't know what to expect. That's how our relationship started. Only it wasn't your typical affair, and not just because of the age difference. Elena introduced me to a different sexual lifestyle." I pause, not sure how to explain this without showing her my playroom.

"BDSM?" Ana asks, speaking for the first time. She's stayed still this entire time, to my surprise.

"Yeah. What gave it away?" I ask, curious as to how she arrived at that conclusion.

"Nothing you said, really. I just put it together from how you stopped fighting, which would presumably be from knowing that you'd be punished, and how she kissed then slapped you. Nancy was so desperate to find someone who could fix her; she was sick of being an addict. She reinvented herself for each new man she dated. Then she met a dom. He used to kiss her and then slap her face, or slap her face as she was giving him head. That relationship didn't work out, because she couldn't stay sober long enough, and I guess that was a hard limit for him. He stopped coming around and she dove back into heroin until the next guy came around." Ana explains. "So you were Elena's submissive?"

"Yes. It made my world come into focus. Like a breath of fresh air. By letting her make the decisions, all that shit left and I could finally breathe. She was the center of my world at that time. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her. It continued through my time at Harvard. Eventually, I wanted to switch roles, and she trained me to become a Dom. She subbed for me, and connected me with my subsequent submissives."

"How many?"

"Fifteen."

"Oh, Christian." Ana sighs. "You don't see it, do you?"

"See what?" I ask.

"What she did was wrong. I'm not saying that your sexual preferences are wrong, but you deserved the choice to come into that on your own. Think about it. She was close to Grace in a time when you and your parents didn't see eye to eye. Grace is one of the most amazing people I've ever met, but she's also very open to the people she trusts. It wouldn't be surprising if she told Elena, who then used that information to get to you." Ana explains.

"She did a lot for me. Stopped my drinking, make me work hard at school, gave me a coping mechanism." I say.

"That let you experience touch? But Christian, what if there was a solution that had been on the horizon, not just a coping mechanism? She took things from you, too."

"If you grow up with a wholly negative self-image, thinking you're some unlovable savage and a reject, you think you deserve to be beaten." I run my hand through my hair. "It's much easier to wear your pain on the outside. I realize now that she had taught me to channel my anger inward. Flynn has been on and on about that for a while."

"She's still trying to control you, Christian. She found you your submissives, and I'd wager that she often discussed how you were getting along with them. She went crazy at me because I'm not a piece in her games. She asked me how I landed you, as if it'd be impossible for you to want anyone that she didn't choose." Ana pauses. "Would you still do anything for her?" Her question is so quiet I almost miss it.

"No, Ana. Lately, the center of my world has been shifting again, in a good way. And I need control in my life. That's why I became a Dom. I surrendered my control to her for a while, and through my submission, I found myself and the strength to take control and make my decisions. I consider Elena a friend, but if she asked me to do something that I didn't want to, I wouldn't."

"Stay with me?" Ana's blue eyes are searching my face, and I know her question carries more meaning than the literal sense.

"Always. I'm surprised you're not running for the hills."

"Didn't I tell you that you wouldn't be able to scare me off, no matter what you told me?" Ana teases. "I just don't know if I can be who you need. I don't have any sexual experience to know if that type of sex appeals to me, and I watched Nancy bend to crazy rules, and I just don't think I can do that. I need to be in control of my life, too."

"Ana, have I given you any sign that you aren't enough?" I ask. Oh my god, she's a virgin. She shakes her head. "You're all I need. In whatever regard suits you. Granted, I'd love it if you'd be willing to experiment, but even if you just want vanilla, I'm okay with that."

"Vanilla? Like ice cream?" Ana asks.

"Vanilla, as in sex without kinks." I reply. "Regardless, as much as I'd love to make love to you, I know we're not there yet." It's a struggle for my dick to understand that, though.

"Christian, I don't want you to change for me. You have a warm heart and a beautiful brain, and you can still be who you were when you met me. I mean, after all that fuss over my car and personal security, I kind of got that you like control. And that's okay. And I'm willing to try kinky sex." Ana says the last part so fast I almost miss it. Once again, my heart swells with how much I feel for her.

"You're incredible." I murmur. Ana beams, and my smile widens because she's smiling.

The intercom buzzes with the news that our food is here. We sit on pillows and eat out of the boxes over the coffee table. It's a new experience, but Ana insists that I have a proper initiation to enjoying Chinese take-out. We feed each other occasionally, and I wish I could just stay in this moment forever. Even though I didn't get to take her on the perfect date I planned, I'm quite pleased with how my night turns out.

I manage to convince her to come sleep over at Escala, and I help her pack an overnight bag. I can't help but wish it was a suitcase instead, so that she could stay at Escala more often. And even though she packed pajamas, she chooses to take another one of my t-shirts. When I point that out, she merely sticks her tongue out at me before borrowing my toothbrush. Sharing things with her is oddly satisfying.

This time, I get more than one kiss. And each kiss leaves me wanting more of her. She's so innocently sexy she isn't even aware of how much she turns me on, though my hard-on is almost about to break through my boxers.

"I never thought I'd be making out with someone like teenagers." Ana muses, when we pull apart.

"This is my first time." I admit.

"I'm glad we got to share this first." Ana smiles, and I kiss her again.

"Me too. I can't wait to share more firsts with you." I tell her.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So I get that the ending to this chapter isn't as concrete as it could be, but I was struggling to find a good place to end this chapter without making it too short or having to spend more time reaching a nice finish point (since I really want to update as much as possible because it means a lot to me that you guys love it so much and I know we all hate waiting). How did I do with the reveal? In the next chapter, we'll see more of the aftermath of the reveal and maybe even get a glimpse of the playroom! As always, leave me a review if you want to tell me anything! I added a picture to the pinterest (which I mostly just post things that I don't describe well enough) so check it out if you want. see y'all next time! xoxo, J.<em>


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